By the timewe’re back at the resort, it’s dark outside, and I’m carrying in the bags filled with my purchases while Crew brings in a pizza we picked up on the way. The smell of it has me ravenous and I drop my bags by the door, reaching for the box before Crew can set it down.
“I’m starving,” I tell him as I lift the lid, grabbing a piece and taking a bite of it.
Oh man, it’s delicious.
Crew watches me with an amused expression on his face. “You’re always hungry.”
“I know.” I set the half-eaten piece back in the box, disappointment filling me. “My mother says I eat too much.”
“Don’t listen to her,” he says, his voice ferocious. “Swear to fucking God, our parents are always trying to fuck us up.”
I frown, reaching for my pizza slice once again. “You think they do it on purpose?”
“Sometimes it feels like it, especially with my parents. My dad.” He shakes his head, and I mentally will him to keep talking. To reveal more. “Like I mentioned, they have zero expectations when it comes to me, but I can’t fuck up. Ever.”
“I think my parents want to marry me off to a rich man so they won’t have to worry about me anymore,” I admit.
Maybe I shouldn’t have said that, considering how rich his family is, but I want to be honest with him.
“Don’t they have a lot of money already?”
“The whole divorce thing.” My appetite leaves me just thinking about it. “Daddy claims they’re trying to work on their marriage, but I don’t really believe them. I think…”
I clamp my lips shut, not wanting to say the words out loud. It’s okay to think them, but putting them out there, letting them hang in the air and enter the universe, makes it feel like it could actually happen.
“You think what?” Crew asks when I still haven’t spoken.
“That it’s actually going to happen. They’re just trying to protect my feelings or whatever. Get through Christmas, through my birthday and then at the beginning of the new year, they’ll spring it on me,” I explain. “They’re definitely getting a divorce. I can just feel it.”
“Sounds like a shitty way to spend the holidays, pretending everything’s okay when it’s not,” Crew says.
I like how he always keeps it real with me. Not trying to protect my feelings all the time, which is how my father always treats me. Like I’m a delicate little flower who can’t handle bad things.
Maybe I was that sort of person not so long ago, but I feel like I’ve changed. Since school started, and especially lately. Spending time with Crew, learning what’s really going on around me, has opened my eyes.
To some things I don’t want to see.
And others that I’m so glad I know now.
Like the taste of his lips. The way his hands feel when they’re on my body. Inside me.
I want to know all of that again. And more.
“It does sound pretty shitty, huh?” I say in agreement.
Crew’s eyes are so wide they nearly bug out of his head. “You just said shitty.”
I shrug. Grab my pizza slice and shove it into my mouth, chewing and then swallowing it down. “I can’t lie. It’s going to be an awful Christmas. And birthday. Not what I expected at all.”
“What did you expect?”
“I wanted everything to be perfect,” I say with a sigh, envisioning it. “I even made a Pinterest board for my eighteenth birthday celebration. Pink and gold and white. Everything sparkly and beautiful. A gorgeous cake covered in flowers made of frosting. Glitter everywhere. A dazzling dress and matching shoes that would make me feel so grown up. Like I’m an actual adult. My hair would be perfect and we’d drink champagne to celebrate. It would be cold and snowing outside but inside, it would be warm and inviting, and I would be surrounded by my favorite people.”
“Sounds nice,” he says.
“Sounds like a fantasy. Like a birthday and New Year’s celebration combined, which is what I’ve always dreamed of doing, but it’s silly, right? I don’t even like New Year’s Eve, but if I had a birthday party on the same night, maybe it would make me like it more. I don’t know. I never approached my parents with the idea because I knew they’d turn me down.”
“Why would they turn you down?” Crew asks, finally reaching for a slice of pizza. At least I’m not the only one eating.
“Because they always have plans, and they never include me. I used to think a New Year’s Eve party was so glamorous, especially the parties my parents would attend. But now I realize there is something rather ominous about New Year’s Eve. Don’t you think?”
He doesn’t say anything. Just watches me with that cool, steady gaze of his as he keeps eating.
“It’s almost the end of a year. Sometimes even an era. My birthday has come and gone, not that anyone cares about it. All of us are too busy making plans for the future. Bogus promises to ourselves we’ll never fulfill. Then there’s the countdown at the end of the night, and the frantic search to find someone to kiss at midnight. How we promise to be good and stick to our resolutions, even though we know deep down we won’t keep them.” I stop talking, realizing I sound pessimistic, which isn’t my normal style.
“You’ve thought about this a lot,” he murmurs.
I shrug one shoulder, suddenly uncomfortable. “I sound like a selfish brat.”
“You sound like someone who really doesn’t like this time of year,” he corrects.
God, he’s so right. I actually hate this time of year.
“I make all of these promises to myself, and now I’m breaking them,” I admit. “Maybe I’ll become nothing but a disappointment.”
“You’re not a disappointment.”
“To you.” I don’t bother mentioning my parents.
Specifically, my father.
“Come here.” Crew holds his hand out and I take it, letting him pull me to him, a gasp leaving me when I’m fully pressed against him. He sneaks his arm around my waist, his hand resting on my backside and I stare up at him, at a complete loss of words from the intensity in his gaze. “I don’t like seeing you look so sad.”
“I’m not sad,” I admit, and I mean it. “I just—”
“Want to forget everything else? Everybody else?”
I nod, resting a hand against his chest, my palm directly over his thundering heart. “Maybe I am a little sad.”
He dips down, his mouth at my ear. “What would make you feel better?”
I turn toward his mouth, my lips brushing his when I whisper, “You.”
CREW
I holdher close and let Wren control the kiss at first, sensing that she needs it. That semblance of control, of being in charge of her life, which I don’t think she experiences much. Her sadness is obvious, palpable. About to steal all of the oxygen out of the damn room until I distracted her.
She needed that. Needs this. Me. My hand slides up and down the perfect curve that is her ass, her tongue darting out to lick at mine. I hum my approval when she sucks on my tongue, and then I can’t hold back any longer.
I take over, my hand going to the side of her face, angling it for a deeper kiss. Our tongues dance, our breathing quickens, and she slides her hands up my chest, curving them around my shoulders, so she can cling to me.
This entire day has been foreplay, Wren-style. Shopping, eating. Lots of eating, which drives me out of my damn mind. Watching her face light up when she oohed and aahed over the Christmas decorations everywhere. The determined look that took over her face when she spotted that small lingerie store and came out of it not even fifteen minutes later, clutching a tiny red bag in her hand.
I can’t wait to see what she got there.
There is so much more to this girl than meets the eye, and I like that she’s comfortable enough to reveal those things to me. I’m trying to be more open with her too, and I wonder if she realizes that.
If she knows how much she affects me.
Wren is unlike any girl I’ve ever known, and I want to know more. I feel as if I’ve barely scratched the surface, and tonight’s mini-rant was telling.
Though I shouldn’t call it a rant. She was being real and raw and vulnerable. Something she’s done with me often, which I like.
Damn it, I like everything about this girl, and that’s scary as fuck.
I don’t let people into my life, especially a girl. I have friends, but I keep most of them at surface level, worried to let them get close. I don’t trust people, even guys who are almost as rich as I am.
But no one I know is as wealthy as my family, and it’s hard to let them into my inner circle. Every girl who’s ever shown interest in me I always figured was after my money.
Shitty but true.
Not Wren though. She wanted nothing to do with me at first, but I guess I wore her down. It’s as if we can’t help ourselves when we’re around each other.
And now that we’ve gone this far, I’m not about to let her go without a fight.
She breaks the kiss first, her chest brushing against mine with her every breath. “I have a surprise for you.”
I raise my brows. “Does it have anything to do with that bag over there?” I incline my head toward the cluster of bags she left on the coffee table.
She nods, biting her lower lip. “I hope you don’t think it’s stupid.”
“Anything involving you and whatever you found at that store, I know it won’t be stupid.”
Her smile is small, her gaze locking on mine. “I’ve had so much fun with you today.”
I don’t think anyone’s ever called spending time with me fun before.
“And I’m so glad you convinced me to come with you, even though I was scared.” Her hands tighten on my shoulders. “I like how you push me.”
I run a hand through her hair, cupping the side of her head. “I don’t think you know what you’re capable of.”
“I’m starting to realize, thanks to you.” Her smile grows and then she’s ducking out of my hold and practically running over to the bags, plucking up the one from the lingerie store before she heads for the stairs. “I’m going to take a quick shower. Meet me up there in thirty?”
“Sure,” I tell her, smiling at her before she zooms up the stairs.
I settle onto the couch with another slice of pizza, checking my phone while I wait. I have text messages I’ve been avoiding. Ones from Malcolm and Ezra, both of them asking where I’m at. One from my sister, asking if I’ll be at the house for Christmas Eve.
I shoot her a quick text, because I never ignore Charlotte. She’s my closest sibling and I’ve been worried about her ever since she married that Perry dude.
There’s an ominous message from my father, one that fills me with dread.
We need to talk. Call me when you get a chance.
I consider ignoring it, but realize quickly that avoiding my problems is not the answer.
I bring up his number and call him, hoping he won’t answer.
Just my luck, he picks up on the second ring.
“Why didn’t you tell me detectives interviewed you yesterday?” he barks at me.
Damn it, I’m probably going to need alcohol after this conversation.
“You already knew about the situation, so I didn’t think I needed to call you. Plus, I’m eighteen. An adult,” I remind him.
“I deserved a call. That way I’m not caught unaware when some asshole reporter reaches out, looking for a reaction from me.”
Shit. I didn’t expect that.
“Why would anyone care? This doesn’t really involve us.”
“Because we’re Lancasters, son. And what we do, people pay attention to, even when we’re only involved on the sidelines,” Dad explains, his tone rough. I can tell he’s losing patience with me.
“Well, it was nothing. I was interviewed, I told my side of the story and what I saw, and that’s the end of it.” I glance upwards at the loft, hearing the telltale sign of the shower running, and I imagine Wren standing under the hot spray of water, her slick, naked body shrouded by steam.
Reaching between my legs, I readjust myself.
“The reporter was kind enough to tell me the story is hitting the papers Monday morning. You will be named as a witness. You will most likely have to testify in court when it goes to trial. I hope you’re prepared to make an appearance,” Dad says.
“I look forward to it. Anything to put that slimeball away for good.” I relish the thought of Figueroa behind bars. It’s what the asshole deserves.
“Where are you anyway? I saw that you used the jet.”